


she's got a smile that heals me

by dontbelasagnax



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Fix-It: s04e08 Silence in the Library, F/F, I finally caved and wrote a fix-it, M/M, My heart begged me, POV The Doctor (Doctor Who), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbelasagnax/pseuds/dontbelasagnax
Summary: He still saw her sometimes. Just whispers of her. It couldn't really be her. He knew that. Mostly he reasoned that, with Darillium, he'd gotten used to seeing her everywhere—just over his shoulder or around the corner, if not by his side—that his brain tried it's best to fill in the gaps.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 16
Kudos: 137





	she's got a smile that heals me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is... unlike anything I've ever written before. I randomly decided this write this at 2 in the morning... with a completely new writing style. I would be the first to admit that I have no idea what this is. 
> 
> I haven't written any Doctor Who fic since maybe early 2018? It's been a while. 2020 marks my tenth year being absolutely obsessed with this damn show so I think it's apt to write some Doctor Who fic?
> 
> For anyone subscribed to me, still expect Supernatural fics from me... I have absolutely no clue where this came from.
> 
> Title is from Billy Joel's "She's Got A Way".
> 
> Oh! Disclaimer: I haven't seen the first two episodes of s12 yet :)

He still saw her sometimes. Just whispers of her. It couldn't really be her. He knew that. Mostly he just reasoned that, with Darillium, he'd gotten used to seeing her everywhere—just over his shoulder or around the corner, if not by his side—that his brain tried it's best to fill in the gaps.

At first it hurt. It hurt something dreadful. He'd open his mouth to share something with her, something meaningless and stupidly domestic. So he'd look over his shoulder—expecting her to be right there, his wife ever so patient and loving—only for there to be an empty space. The harsh realization hit him hard every time. Stabbed him in both hearts. Dunked him in a bath of ice water. Stole the breath from his lungs.

She wasn't ever coming back. She was gone. 

He longed for the warmth that followed her. The way her love seemed to just fill a room. 

  
  
  
  


It got better. 

  
  
  


With time.

  
  
  


He never stopped wanting for her. He did act on those distinct urges. 

  
  
  
  


He talked to her. 

  
  
  
  


At first he thought it too lonely to simply talk aloud, no one in the room but himself. 

So he wrote.

  
  


He wrote. 

  
  
  


And wrote.

  
  
  
  


And wrote.

  
  


He kept a new journal with him, one for jotting down little notes. Just thoughts he wanted to share with her. Mundane things. Speculative thoughts. Memories he revisited. Anything. 

  
  


But not everything. 

  
  


He promised himself he wouldn't apologize. He wouldn't self pity. She would hate it if he did. Threaten to chuck him into a black hole. 

So, however much he hated himself—for his past selves' gross mistreatment of her, his pure selfishness, The Library—he never once mentioned it. 

The notes were his way of keeping her alive. 

  
  
  
  


Then he landed himself a job as a professor.

  
  
  
  


He was only moonlighting, really. 

  
  


It was the vault he needed.

  
  


But with all his new responsibilities, it left him with less time to write to her. 

  
  
  


He talked to her. 

  
  
  
  


This time it was better. It felt better. 

  
  


In his office he could almost delude himself into thinking that he was only talking to her picture because he was at work.

  
  
  


He knew the truth.

  
  
  


The truth hurt. 

  
  
  


At some point of time, he placed a picture of Susan besides River's photograph. Though he'd never know if the women ever met, they surely would get along had they. It only felt natural to see their photographs on his desk, together. Arguably the most important women in his life.

  
  


He'd tell them whatever came to mind. Little anecdotes from the day. How Bill reacted to the dogs on the planet Barcelona. Missy's latest death threat. A list of every way Nardole annoyed him in the span of an hour. Everyday things. 

  
  


Everything paled in comparison to actually being with his family, but it became a comfort. 

To have a chat with his favorite girls, for the TARDIS weighed in every once in a while.

  
  
  
  


He still saw her. Out of the corner of his eye. 

  
  


He got used to it, over time.

  
  


Catching a phantom glance of her was welcome. 

  
  
  
  
  


Change was inevitable.

  
  
  
  


Bill ran off with her puddle girlfriend. Nardole stayed behind with a colony of children. Missy escaped with the Master. 

  
  
  


The Doctor regenerated. 

  
  


Into a woman.

  
  


She found new friends. 

  
  
  
  


She curled up on her bed at the end of each day and told her wife about them all. 

  
  


Her "fam" as she called them. 

Yaz. Graham. Ryan. 

  
  
  
  


Sometimes the whispers of Her would manifest while she was with her fam. 

  
  
  


She just smiled fondly and ignored it. 

  
  
  
  


And then she started to see her around every corner, in her peripheral vision, constantly. 

  
  
  


It was… distracting.

  
  
  


She was _just_ out of reach every time. 

Like she'd _just_ turned the corner. Or had been standing beside her only a second ago. 

  
  


_I'm going mad_ , she thought time and time again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The Doctor sprawled across a chaise lounge in the depths of the TARDIS library. 

She talked to her love. 

She talked of the day gone adventuring with her fam, compared it to a sticky situation she'd gotten her wife into once. 

When she felt it. 

The presence. Of course she knew there was no one there. 

She'd returned her fam to Sheffield. 

The TARDIS was floating, deep in space. 

So she continued. Rambling. Commenting. Accidentally let it slip that she missed Her laugh.

The presence was still there, oddly enough. 

The Doctor humored her ever so irritating brain. 

  
  


She looked. 

  
  
  


_White skirts._

  
  
  


And looked. 

  
  
  


_White, long cardigan. Sparkly._

  
  


_A sweetheart neckline._

  
  


_Tanned skin._

  
  
  
  


And looked. 

  
  
  
  


_Golden, curly hair, framing a perfect face._

  
  
  
  


_Green eyes._

  
  
  
  
  


And she saw.

  
  
  
  


_"River."_

  
  
  
  


"Hello, Sweetie."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bonus:

  
  


"Oh thank _Heavens,_ that worked!" 

The Doctor felt paralyzed. 

"I've been trying for ages, but look at me." 

The Doctor certainly did look. 

"Ugh I must get rid of this dreadful outfit. So not me."

"Sweetie?" River knelt. Put a hand on the Doctor's knee. That point of contact sizzled the Doctor's brain. "You can see me, right?"

"River."

"Yes?"

"River."

"My love, are you alright?" She pressed the back of a manicured hand on the Doctor's forehead. 

The Doctor raked her eyes over River's appearance. "You're here."

"Yes, darling. I am."

"You're really here." The Doctor made a sound that was something in between a chortle and a sob. She grabbed River's hands. 

"I am." 

"How?" 

  
  


River smiled. 

  
  


_(The Doctor didn't know she could miss a smile so very much until that moment)_

  
  


And she answered with the single most glorious word the Doctor had ever heard. 

  
  
  
  
  


_"Spoilers."_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 💙
> 
> Please leave a comment and a kudo if you enjoyed this fic! I get such a dopamine rush from reading comments so please indulge me, it's my birthday month. (I have been reduced to begging. Am I pathetic? Yes. Do I feel shame? No.)
> 
> Scream at me on [tumblr](https://dontbelasagnax.tumblr.com)!


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